Midnight and Holding by Joyce DeBacco

Sometimes we wish we could stop the clock and rewind time. Maybe to savor a happy moment, take back words spoken in haste, or fulfill an ambition. Other times we want to turn the clock ahead, hopeful of better times or fortunes. Midnight and Holding is a collection of short fiction reflecting those desires. A mix of humor, pathos, and serious observations for your reading pleasure.

What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Several stories kept running through my mind. They weren’t long enough to write a novel, but they were perfect for a short story collection.

How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Some are based on people I know, and others were purely made up to fit the story. One was even based on incidents in my own life. See if you can guess which story it is.

Book Excerpt/Sample
The next day, yielding to the call of the wild, we headed for the lake. As we waited in line at the boat ramp, we studied the procedure for birthing hubby’s pride and joy.
“Nothing to it,” he said, watching other successful launches. “A few jerks and bumps, and the boat slides right into the water.”
When our turn came, hubby held fast to the tow line while I backed the trailer into the water. I’d never been on a boat before and looked forward to this new adventure with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
“Go slow now,” he instructed.
Several jerks and bumps later, the car was submerged up to its tail lights and baby refused to budge. “One more jerk,” he said, tugging with brute strength.
Three more jerks and, to my relief, the boat slid free. I parked the car, grabbed the cooler, and climbed aboard. As we floated away from the dock, I looked to my captain for reassurance, unsettled to find his eyes wide, jaw slack.
I grabbed onto my seat. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, do you have the key?”
All I could do was groan.
“No problem.” He groped under the seats. “We have an oar.”
My eyes popped. “One oar?” I was fast developing an appreciation for spectator sports.
After paddling and cajoling the fifteen-hundred pound vessel back to the dock, we tried again. The motor roared to life, and hubby beamed like a parent hearing his child’s first words. He allowed his baby to “talk” for a few minutes and then put it in gear. The boat shot forward.
I reseated myself and straightened my sunglasses. “I think I should put on my seatbelt,” I said, looking for one.
“Boats don’t have seatbelts,” he informed me. “But there are life jackets under the seat.”
That should’ve been my cue to bail out then and there.
After scouring the lake for a suitable fishing spot—uncrowded, some underbrush—we finally dropped anchor. “Okay, let’s fish,” hubby said, pole in hand. “Where’s the tackle box?”
“I carried the cooler with our drinks and lunch,” I said, letting him come to his own conclusion.
He did, and back to the dock we went.
An hour after arriving at the lake, we finally dipped our lines in the water. Two hours later, the mosquitoes were fed, the fish were fed, and I was fed—up to my ears with the sporting life.
But in the months to come…

Author Bio:
As a mother of four grown daughters, I’m familiar with the problems facing young women today. All my stories feature people similar to those in your own life. Because most of my books are romances, they have a touching love story threaded through each.